Liverpool still torn over night that shamed their name

Liverpool are a club touched by tragedy. Approach Anfield from any direction and you are immediately - and properly - confronted by Hillsborough. At the Shankly Gates an eternal flame burns inside the Hillsborough memorial, a red marble wall bearing the names of the 96 dead and adorned with fresh flowers laid by the bereaved and the outraged alike. On the other side of the ground a shop front bears the name of the Hillsborough Justice Campaign, a group still fighting for those responsible for pointless, preventable deaths to be brought to account.

Fittingly the events of April 15 1989 have been taken to the heart of the club's identity as much as any of the on-field triumphs of the 70s and 80s. The same cannot be said of the other tragedy in Liverpool's recent history, however; bridges may have been built between the boardrooms at Liverpool and Juventus, but you have to search harder to find a public reference to Heysel at Anfield.

Inside the club museum, displayed on a wall around the corner from four replica European Cups and in earshot of a recording of the Kop chorusing You'll Never Walk Alone, is a marble plaque 18 inches square that reads: "In Memoriam: In memory of those who died at the Heysel Stadium, Brussels." Next to it is Kenny Dalglish's shirt from that night, a match programme, and the Juventus pennant Michel Platini handed to Phil Neal before the 1985 European Cup final eventually kicked off yards from where paramedics were counting the dead.

It was a tragedy for which many were culpable, but 20 years on, as the clubs prepare to meet for the first time since that night in Brussels, Liverpool and their supporters are still struggling to come to terms with their part in the disaster.

It is not hard to grasp why. At Hillsborough, Liverpool were unquestionably the victims of gross, lethal negligence by the authorities, a truth established only after a courageous, dignified struggle by the families of the dead. Hugely painful though it may be, that is easier to come to terms with than acknowledging even the smallest culpability for the earlier disaster.

John Williams, a sociologist at the Norman Chester Centre for Football Research and an Anfield season-ticket holder, believes attitudes to Heysel stem from a deep sense of shame, and are bound up with Hillsborough.

"The club and certainly its supporters feel ashamed of what happened, because quite quickly after the events we were beginning to look for ways of explaining it that did not concern us," he says.

"Stories of supporters from other clubs and political groups infiltrating the group emerged, and these were followed by the maladministration of Uefa, the poor quality of the stadium and the cowardice of police. All of these have important elements of truth in them but they were also ways of avoiding responsibility.

"Had Hillsborough not happened we may have dealt with it, but there has been a feeling that we just need to forget Heysel and hope it went away. That was always dangerous."

Attitudes to Heysel remain equivocal on Merseyside, in part because the events were never subject to detailed scrutiny. There has never been an extensive inquiry, perhaps conveniently given the chaos and inadequacy of the police response on that night. Debate over the details continues. Many accounts, including the club's version on its website, cite missile throwing by Italian fans as the spark for violence, a claim contested by other eye-witnesses, but the broad facts are uncontested.

Uefa selected a dilapidated venue for the 1985 final and allocated block Z at the predominantly Liverpool end to "neutral" fans. These tickets were sold to Italian immigrants and Belgians, who were separated from their rivals by a chicken-wire fence and a line of reluctant, inexperienced police. Liverpool fans breached the fence and charged. Juventus supporters retreated until they were forced against a retaining wall that collapsed, killing 38 Italians and a Belgian. There followed the most shocking scenes witnessed even in the dark days of the 80s, as Liverpool fans rampaged, Juve's supporters who had breached their end retaliated, and the overwhelmed police struggled to regain order.

Nicholas Allt watched the tragedy unfold from on top of the wall at the back of block Z. Now 43, he spent his youth following Liverpool's great European adventure largely for free, thanks to his skilful evasion of the authorities.

He has chronicled the eight-year party that saw Liverpool collect four European Cups in Boys from the Mersey, a book, he says, which is the most shoplifted in Waterstones' Liverpool branch.

Allt's account depicts Liverpool's travelling army as scallies not sadists, supporting themselves through petty theft and blagging, and resorting to violence only when provoked. That was the case at Heysel, he says, dismissing stories that non-Liverpool fans infiltrated the support.

"I had never seen such a shambles as Heysel," he says. "Whoever decided to put Juve fans in with Liverpool has obviously never been to a football match before.

"The stadium was crumbling - I went in and out four times through holes in the wall. The turnstiles had been abandoned and you didn't even need a ticket, and there was rubble lying around everywhere.

"It was all right at first. We had a great party during the day, but there was a bit of taunting, a few missiles thrown, and then the Italian fans started spitting. Now in northern Europe that's the lowest of the low, and only a coward is going to run away from that. That's when the charge started. It was tragic really, because the people who died were not the ones doing the spitting, but the innocent people at the back. They were all innocent."

"If we had been two gangs in a nightclub, and one started a fight and the other chased them and the stairs collapsed, people would blame the greedy nightclub owner for not having a safe venue. That's what happened at Heysel."

For Allt, Heysel marked the end of an era. A six-year European ban for Liverpool followed, and before it was over Hillsborough triggered the introduction of all-seat stadiums.

"As soon as we got to Ostend and saw the reporters waiting we realised the party was over," Allt says. "But it wasn't until after Hillsborough that I realised quite what had happened at Heysel. I was a bit older, and it's when it happens to your own that you realise what the Italians had gone through."

He says of Tuesday: "Liverpool is a sentimental city, too sentimental sometimes, and I'm not sure if a load of people who weren't there saying sorry will achieve anything. It might even seem a bit false."

Not all share his view. Les Lawson, secretary of the Merseyside branch of the official Liverpool Supporters' Club, believes the time is right for an apology, and many of his members agree.

"I would hope there will be at the least a minute's silence, so that Liverpool fans can show to Juventus counterparts in the stadium and back in Italy that we are truly sorry for what happened back in 1985.

"There were a lot of mitigating circumstances, but we are sorry, and I hope the games are remembered for the football and the respect shown to those that lost their lives."

Lawson is resigned to a hostile reception in Turin in 11 days' time. In a sense he expects nothing less. "We will never forgive South Yorkshire police for Hillsborough, so why should Juventus fans ever forgive us?"